'Cause our Ma say he can!--An' this Here little pair o' crutches Sis Skips round on--Pa maked _them_--yes-sir!-- An' silivur-plate-name here fer her! Pa's out o' work when Chris'mus come One time, an' stay away from home, An' 's drunk an' 'buse our Ma, an' swear They ain't no "Old Kriss" anywhere! An' Sis she alluz say they wuz A' Old Kriss--an' she alluz does. But ef they is a' Old Kriss, why, When's Chris'mus, Ma she alluz cry? This Chris'mus _now_, we live here in Where Ma's rent's alluz due ag'in-- An' she "_ist slaves_"--I heerd her say She did--ist them words thataway! [Illustration] An' th'other night, when all's so cold An' stove's 'most out--our Ma she rolled Us in th'old feather-bed an' said, "To-morry's Chris'mus--go to bed, "An' thank yer blessed stars fer this-- We don't _'spect_ nothin' from Old Kriss!" An' cried, an' locked the door, an' prayed, An' turned the lamp down.... An' I laid There, thinkin' in the dark ag'in, "Ef _wuz_ Old Kriss, he can't git in, 'Cause ain't no chimbly here at all-- Ist old stovepipe stuck frue the wall!" I sleeped nen.--An' wuz dreamin' some When I waked up an' morning's come,-- Fer our Ma she wuz settin' square Straight up in bed, a-readin' there Some letter 'at she 'd read, an' quit, An' nen hold like she's huggin' it.-- An' diamon' ear-rings she don't _know_ Wuz in her ears tel I say so-- An' wake the rest up. An' the sun In frue the winder dazzle-un Them eyes o' Sis's, wiv a sure- Enough gold chain Old Kriss bringed to 'er! An' _all_ of us git gold things!--Sis, Though, say she know it "_ain't_ Old Kriss-- He kissed her, so she waked an' saw Him skite out--an' it wuz her Pa." * * * * * [Illustration: "ALONG THE BRINK OF WILD BROOK-WAY."] * * * * * A SONG OF SINGING Sing! gangling lad, along the brink Of wild brook-ways of shoal and deep, Where killdees dip, and cattle drink, And glinting little minnows leap! Sing! slimpsy lass who trips above And sets the foot-log quivering! Sing! bittern, bumble-bee, and dove-- Sing! Sing! Sing! Sing as you will, O singers all Who sing because you _want_ to sing! Sing! peacock on the orchard wall, Or tree-toad by the trickling spring! Sing! every bird on every bough-- Sing! every living, loving thing-- Sing any song, and anyhow, But Sing! Sing! Sing! * * * * * THE JAYBIRD The Jaybird he's my _favorite_ Of all the birds they is! I think he's quite a stylish sight In that blue suit of his: An' when he' lights an' shuts his wings, His coat's a "cutaway"-- I guess it's only when he sings You'd know he wuz a jay.